Night Wanderings
by JustMaeBe
Summary: After a gruelling twenty-four hour watch at the prison, Daryl falls into a dream where he can touch Beth in all the ways he desperately wants to. But something about this dream is different, more vibrant. But he's still Daryl, she's still Beth, and this is all just a dream. Right?
It was night…or day? Very early Morning? Daryl stumbled down the hallway, feet dragging, shoulders dropped down, barely able to lift his head enough to find his way back to his cell. He'd been on watch for nearly 24 hours straight, covering for Glenn and then Maggie so they could have some "alone" time. Typical. They were going to wear Glenn's dick down to a nub unless they gave it a fuckin' break.

A break. He needed a break. Just a little sleep. The walls were sliding around a bit. He stopped, confused. This wasn't a hallway he would go down to get back to Block C. No…D? Was he going to D? He blinked a few times, but the whole hallway had a strange blurred out quality. Like it wasn't real.

Was he dreamin'? Shit he probably fell asleep back in the goddamn guard tower. Some guard he was.

A song echoed down the hallway. High and sweet. Calling him. _"When I'm gone, please speak well of me."_

Beth. Of course.

He shuffled toward the sound, passing through the open library doors. There she was, back to him straining to put a book back on a high shelf. Sunshine gold hair tumbling free today. He wanted to sink his hands into it, feel the silk sliding through his fingers. Maybe slide his hands over her shoulders and down her sides, squeezing a bit. She'd giggle. She's so ticklish. She only had a tank top on today, the bottom of it riding up to show the sweet little dimples on her lower back. He'd bite those. Gently…then not so gently. Mark her soft skin up a bit. Not permanently. Never permanently. Her shorts stopped just under the curve of her ass. Those damn shorts. Got him hard in a second every time she wore them. God she always bent over right where he could see when she had them on. Like she was inviting him to look or some shit.

He'd never touch her outside here. Outside his dreams she was safe. But in them? He found her every time. Made her gasp. Fucked her hard or soft or whatever the fuck he wanted. And she wanted it too. Begged for it. Every goddamn night he found her and she'd press her hot little body into his. Sometimes he'd sink into a dream and he'd already be fuckin' her. Or bein' fucked by her. Wakin' up sucked because he wouldn't be able to find her and fuck her like he wanted to awake. But at least he had her in his dreams. Only place a dirty goddamn redneck like him could have a girl like her.

And here she was. And here he was. And this was all a dream.

He lurched forward, grabbing her hips in his hands, pulling her ass back to grind against his aching cock. He pressed his face into her neck, biting the soft fragrant skin softly.

Beth shrieked and startled so hard she nearly knocked his teeth out, her head jerking around to see who or what grabbed her.

"JESUS! Daryl?! Wha-" Her voice is high and slightly panicked.

Daryl brought one hand up to cover her mouth. Usually she was so much quieter. But he had no problems making sure she was quiet.

"Shhh, baby girl. S'just me."

She squirmed in his hold, trying to turn. He felt her chest heaving, hot bursts of air from her nose gusted down over the back of his palm, playing with the hairs there. He held her more firmly against himself, ground his cock harder against her. She felt so much better this time. Warmer. Beth pressed back into his touch, her head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. Her body relaxed a degree now that he'd identified himself. Her hands went to his, trying to move them gently. He sucked at her neck hard, not enough to leave a mark but enough to get her attention.

"Nuh uh, baby girl. You're fine. I'm gonna take care of you but first, you're gonna put your hands on that shelf for me okay?"

She raised her head and turned it toward him. Her eyes darted to the side, trying to catch his gaze. After a moment she nodded shakily, extending her arms to hold onto the shelf like he'd asked. She gripped it firmly, knuckles almost white. The shelf was the perfect height, coming to just about shoulder level. No strain on her to hold it, but perfect for leverage, should he want it.

He smiled against her neck, kissing it softly. Her chest still heaved, pulse thrumming under his lips. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was scared. But he could see the bumps of her nipples straining against her tank top, could feel her hips stutter backward into the cradle of his own. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he knew she must feel the same way. Sweat was starting to glisten near her temples and on her neck.

"Good job, girl. You're doin' so good. I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth, and you're gonna be quiet for me ok? You wan' me to make you feel good, baby? You gonna be quiet for me?"

She moaned, nodding. His hand slid away from her mouth as promised. She brushed a soft kiss across the pads of his fingers as he moved them away. He moved her soft hair away from her shoulder then dragged his lips along the newly exposed flesh, sucking and biting his way back to the soft skin where her neck met her shoulders. Her head fell to the side, allowing him better access. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he ghosted them up her right arm, feeling the ripple of gooseflesh left in their wake before tangling his fingers with hers on the shelf.

"Daryl," she whispered, voice shaking slightly. "What…why…"

She never finished the sentence. The hand that once gripped her hip now cupped her, gently massaging her over the rough fabric of her shorts and all coherency was lost. She shuddered hard in his grasp, fingers squeezed his as she moaned high and clear. Her legs trembled but she didn't go down, standing strong in front of him. He smiled against her neck. HIs fucking strong girl. In his other dreams she knew the drill. Knew why he was there, what he could do for her. But this confused innocent act? This was working for him in ways he never wanted to think too deeply on. Maybe because it felt more real or some shit. Whatever the reason, his cock was aching in in his jeans and she seemed to be on the right page with him now, pressing into his hand then rolling her hips back to feel his straining length.

He smiled against her. "Feel good, baby?"

She nodded quickly, breath fast and deep. Not quiet at all but hotter than hell.

"Want me to make you feel even better? Promise I'll be gentle. So, so, gentle with you. Unless you ask for it harder."

She bucked back against him again.

"Please," she whispered, "please touch me."

Daryl dragged his hand up the front of her shorts slowly, listening for her breath to hitch or for her to pull away, or change her mind. She might be saying yes now but if she said no, he'd stop in a second. Dream or no dream, she always came first.

But she didn't say no. Her breath somehow sped up, hitching in the sweetest way when he released the button of her shorts and dragged the zipper down. She was shaking again, full body small tremors. She hummed, trying to keep her moans quiet but her moans spilled over when his fingers ghosted over her soaked panties before he slid his hand down the front to feel her.

It felt like this was the first time he'd ever touched her. So much warmer and wetter than he could have ever imagined her to be. His fingers slid easily across her lips, teasing her. She jolted against his touch, as if the rough drag of his fingers was too much for her overheated sensitive skin. He eased up his touch slightly. He did promise to be gentle with her after all. Until she started to beg.

He teased her with slow gentle strokes, passing over her lips but not parting her until she told him to. Her voice was high, she was trying so hard to whisper but need seemed to necessitate some volume. The shuddering of her body spilled over into her voice, the only time he'd ever heard her voice less than perfectly clear.

"Please please please, oh god please touch me, please. Please!'

Daryl unlaced his fingers from hers on the shelf, moving it to grip her hair and turn her head to face him. A blush stained her cheeks and neck, pupils blown wide with desire. She must have been biting her lower lip at some point, as swollen and red as it looked. He had to taste her. So he did. With an almost bruising force he kissed her, biting her bottom lip then soothing it with his tongue. He moaned against her petal soft lips. She tasted like sweet Georgia fruit and a hint of mint, as if she'd brushed her teeth recently. His other dreams had never given her a flavour like this and it nearly brought him to his knees. He needed more.

As his tongue parted her lips, so to did his fingers. His deep rough groan met her high squeak of shock as his rough fingers found her clit, tracing small circles. His fingers traced down to her opening and back up to her clit for a few lazy circuits. He wanted her to be ready for him and god she was. Burning hot and slick, lips swollen and sensitive she was ready for anything he wanted to give her. And he wanted to give her everything.

On his last pass down to her opening, he slid his thick middle finger in. Just to the first knuckle at first but he practically slid all the way. She moaned against his mouth loudly, teeth grazing his top lip. He wrenched his mouth away from hers, panting hot breath over her flushed skin. He pressed his forehead against hers.

"Jesus, baby. You're so wet for me. Never been this wet before, fuck!"

"Wha—oh." Beth said, the last word almost lost in the breathy giggle which followed it.

His hips pressed harder into her ass, grinding slowly to the same rhythm as his finger. She made a high keening noise, pulling her forehead away from his to drop it back against his shoulder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, concentrating on the feeling of his thick finger pumping in and out of her. Not a care in the world about who could hear her, each time he slid his finger into her, her moans became higher and louder. That couldn't continue if she wanted to come. Girl had to listen. So on the next slide out, he stopped.

She tried to protest, fingers spasming on the shelf, body pressing into his. He shushed her gently.

"Gotta be quiet, girl, remember? Gotta be quiet or I'll stop."

One of her hands finally flew off the shelf, holding the hand had pressed against her pussy in place.

"Don't stop! Oh god please don't stop!"

Daryl chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "I don't wanna stop, baby. Be quiet and I won't stop. Hand back on the shelf now."

She nodded, trying to control her panting breathing. Moans under control for now. Her hand reluctantly left his to grip the shelf once more.

"Good girl."

Daryl dropped his face back to her neck, biting and sucking harder against the skin. He added a second finger, pumping faster as a reward. His own hips matched the rhythm. Her walls started to squeeze his fingers like a vice. Her attempt at being quiet was short lived, moans high and loud once more.

"Daryl! Oh god I'm-"

He picked up the pace. No way he was stopping now, noise be damned.

"C'mon, baby. Come for me. Come on my fingers, girl. I want you to. C'mon now."

There was no muffling it. Her body jerked, walls fluttered around his fingers, high cries echoing off the stone walls of the library. Hearing her, feeling her flood of warmth and wet around his fingers was enough to push him over the edge. Biting down hard on the back of her neck, he grunted as he came. His threadbare boxers stuck uncomfortably against his cock but he didn't care.

Orgasm spent, Beth's small, warm body sagged back against him. His fingers were still deep within her, her body shuddering every so often in small aftershocks. When her breath finally evened out, he slid his fingers gently from her. Sucked them clean.

She definitely tasted better in this dream. Goddamn.

When he was sure she could stand without his assistance, he kissed the bruise he'd made on the back of her damp neck gently. Whispered "see you tomorrow" into her hair then left the library. He didn't look back to see her reaction to it all.

He woke slow, sun streaming in through the high grimy prison windows. Wait. He was in his cell. Not the guard tower. He bolted upright, looking around frantically. Shit. He didn't fall asleep in the guard tower.

A cold, uneasy feeling settled into his gut. If he was in his cell…He grabbed his crossbow and raced into the greater cell block. The area was quiet, not a soul to be found. Trying to calm himself, he burst through the doors leading outside. He didn't know…not for sure.

And there she was, hanging laundry on the line while the rest of the group milled about farther down the yard. Same little shorts, long hair still tumbling down her back.

He froze, struggling between going back into the prison and avoiding her or going and finding out. Every fibre in his body screamed to go back into the prison. Go back and hide. Go back and let her be. Better yet, disappear into the woods. If he did…if the rest found out what he'd done. God they'd kill him. Dirty redneck asshole touching the sunshine of the prison? He'd best pray they don't crucify his ass. Cut off his hands for touching her. But he had to know. He had to.

So he moved as quietly as he could across the yard. But before he could reach her a strong gust of wind whipped through the prison yard, mussing Beth's hair and revealing the large purple bruise on the back of her neck.

His heart stuttered then kicked into overdrive, thudding so rapidly he swore it was skipping beats.

"Fuck."

It hadn't been a dream.


End file.
